I’ve been feeling really exposed and slightly too eh, transparent, let’s say in my last couple weeks of blogs; so I am giving you something more palatable for today.
This magical album reminds me of girls named Miranda and Kisha and Misty and boys named Dan and Tim and Rick and George and Calvin and Eli and Ace; everything that was good about my longest summer, 1995.
I ❤ the whole thing, but I suggest you start at 10:48, then go back to the beginning 😉
If you fast forward thru the news it looks like the background montage at the begining of a post-apocalyptic movie;
I no longer notice when it is raining unless someone points it out or its like a typhoon;
Sometimes the words that come out of my mouth are really not even close to an actual reflection of what I think;
I take entirely too much pleasure in tormenting my dog, ie: giving him the “Belcoe glare” while he is eating until I have to laugh because the food falls out of his mouth;
I think that this MSW is going to the best thing professionally I have ever done because it allows me to change my mind a lot;
While listening to the today show today (haha) they described glow in the dark wooden blocks (like lincoln logs) and my first thought was “What kinda cancer is that going to cause?” good grief. (This is how my brain works);
I need to paint a new picture because I donated a painting and have a big empty spot on my wall where it hung…its really bothering me;
The 80’s aren’t coming back. They are here;
Ron Paul is speaking in my hometown and my new town ON THE SAME DAY. It is a sign;
This video makes me say HMMMM: Things that make you say HMMMMM;
Kathy Lee may not be an idiot, but she plays one on t.v. I am pretty sure she is drunk. Whatever.
That is all.
I know how to show what needs to be seen
I have always been skilled at presenting the image they want
Skilled at hiding the proof that they look for
Figurative hands in my pockets to hide the defensive wounds
Cuts inflicted by the razor like flows of basalt I have crawled out of
While the world tries to swallow me up in a bombastic opus of thoughts and what ifs
I am classically trained in the art of manipulation and sleight of hand;
You only see what I want you to see; do you see it?